


The weather outside is frightful

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: A hint of Xmas so Xmas fic, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:15:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28330752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: When it came to James Bond, all missions were dangerous missions. Even his bloody vacations tended to end in explosions, bullet exchanges, and old buildings damaged if not outright demolished and yet, for some reason, his Quartermaster was always surprised by the inevitable outcome.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 1
Kudos: 95





	The weather outside is frightful

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Xmas~

When it came to James Bond, all missions were dangerous missions. Even his bloody vacations tended to end in explosions, bullet exchanges, and old buildings damaged if not outright demolished and yet, for some reason, his Quartermaster was always surprised by the inevitable outcome.

It didn’t always happen in the same way and it wasn’t always James’ fault which was the true unexpected thing. This time, Q had done the stupid thing of breathing a sigh of relief at the end of the mission _before_ they got back to London despite the fact that they were in a small plane piloted by James. And because he had been foolish enough to tempt the fates by counting his chickens before the eggs were hatched, a bloody pencil pusher forgot to notify _all_ the countries that they were flying over so someone took multiple shots at them and they were currently going down in flames.

“We’ll be fine,” James growled as he struggled to get the plane to do what he wanted.

Q let out a noise that might have been a whine or a whimper. He wasn’t exactly sure because he was much too busy clutching his equipment backpack while watching his entire life flash before his eyes as the ground got closer. He always knew a bloody plane would be the death of him but couldn’t it at least have happened while he was in first class? Or whatever class it was that had that private room so he could openly cry without anyone judging him? He certainly couldn't cry in from of James out of all people but God, did his eyes stung with unshed tears.

“Damn you, James Bond. Don’t let these be my last words,” Q ordered and shut his eyes tight, getting the air knocked out of him and his body violently rocked back and forth as the plane came into contact with the ground.

James was the first to regain his senses, easily slipping into survival mode. He ignored the way his ears were ringing and that even the smallest bone in his body hurt so he could unbuckle himself and Q and drag him out of the wreckage. He propped Q up against a tree in the snow, proceeding to check and make sure that he was okay. “We’re not out of woods yet.”

“I know,” Q breathed out, thankful for the warm hands on his face. His glasses were cracked but he packed a lot of spares when he found himself forced to go out in the field so he didn’t worry about that too much. “Can I stay on the ground for a bit? My legs feel like they’re made out of jelly. I didn’t bump my head, I am just trying to ignore a panic attack,” he reassured James when he started to look more closely at his head for any bumps.

James ignored him and continued with his investigation, Q knowing better than to argue with him. Now wasn’t the time for their usual banter and though Q was an ace when it came to everything that had to do with technology and guiding people with maps, James was the ruler of the actual field. James was also very determined to keep him safe at all times while being in said field with him after he found out about the whole ‘almost getting kidnapped while in Austria’ business.

Satisfied that Q wasn’t going to drop dead all of a sudden or fall asleep and never wake up, James turned his attention to the sky. “We can’t wait for the rescue team here.”

Q frowned, following James’ line of sight. “Why? They maybe have a general idea of where we are only because of the transmitter in the plane which I think we can also use as a shelter despite the state it’s in.”

There was no real danger at this point since the snow had put out their burning engines but there was a sense of urgency due to the snowstorm that was coming right towards them, the thick, dark clouds having forced James to fly low to the ground and be an easy target. They weren’t supposed to be _any_ kind of target but some people were either horrible at their job or were working for their enemy – in which case, they still needed to be fired because both he and his Quartermaster were alive and mostly well.

“True on all accounts but if the storm is going to be as bad as I think, we won’t survive in here so I’d rather make our way to the cabin I spotted not too far back,” James started to explain, using the special pocket knife Q made for him to carve a short message in the plane’s control panel. “Plus, I trust you’ll find a way to let MI6 know where we are exactly.”

Q had managed to pull himself up and got full control over his muscles by the time he walked up next to James. “I’ll need a few things from the aeroplane such as the transmitter.” They risked never being found if they didn’t make it to the cabin if they removed that but Q trusted James to get them there before they froze to death. “Get those bits as well and grab the repair and survival kits in the back. I’d hate to force you to make a return trip.”

“I’d hate for that as well since I’m guessing it’s a two-hour hike to get there in this weather,” James supplied rolling his eyes at Q’s audible gasp when he saw him how carelessly he was ripping things out of the plane. “We really don’t have time to be gentle.”

“I’m not asking you to be a surgeon but they won’t do us any good if I can’t get them to work and it’s not like I have all my tools with me,” Q pointed out, carefully putting the more sensitive pieces in his bag.

They spent maybe 15 minutes scavenging everything Q deemed necessary to make contact with MI6 and James thought would help them survive and then they quickly set off, the storm hot on their heels. Hiking in normal conditions was problematic for Q but with the threat of freezing to death looming over his head as well as the thick layer of snow on the ground that hid various roots and boulders while neither he nor James had the appropriate footwear thrown into the mix, it was near impossible.

James had kept their descent in the straightest line possible after he’d spotted the cabin and he had an excellent sense of direction in a seemingly bland open train which he had acquired during his days with the navy but he was still moving slowly due to Q. He didn’t mock or snap at Q for that as it really wasn’t his fault. Quartermasters weren’t trained for the field and the only reason he had been on this mission with him was because he’d insisted on it, some MI6 operatives describing his insistence as something akin to a childish tantrum.

The presumed two-hour hike ended up lasting almost three hours and by then, the edge of the storm had moved over them. James had linked arms with Q to keep each other warm and half-dragged him in the right direction, after he’d tumbled for a third time. Q had been too embarrassed to look him in the eyes, muttering an apology on the verge of tears of frustration but James brushed that aside and shared a very short story about his first time in similar conditions and how close he’d been to giving up before telling Q to just focus on their steps and not waste his breath on words unless he wanted to be even more exhausted.

A jolt of energy coursed through Q’s body at the site of the cabin and he dashed ahead of James, surprising him by how easily and quickly he picked the locks. “Pile of wood next to the fireplace. I don’t see any snow piled on the ground and I feel no draft though I can’t really feel anything right now,” Q said after James had sealed the front door, smiling after opening the cupboard and finding it filled with various cans of food. “Not a single expired can in sight.”

Still in active-agent mode, James stopped Q from opening the only other door in the room outside of the one leading outside and forced him to take cover behind him. Technically there was no way for an enemy or a bear to be waiting for them in whatever this other room was but statistically, it was a very small chance - one that James didn’t want to take.

“Bathroom clear,” James breathed out, lowering his gun and allowing Q to step around him to poke in his head. “The solar panels will be useless right now so I’ll go make sure that the chimney isn’t blocked. You strip out of the wet clothes and get in bed under every blanket and piece of cloth you can find. I’ll join you after getting the fire going.”

No banter was exchanged as Q did as he was told, aware that James was trying to avoid either one of them getting sick. There was no telling how long the snowstorm was going to last or how long it would take MI6 to find them so it was better to have to worry about finding wood after they used up everything they had in the cabin than about pneumonia or bronchitis.

Q’s teeth started to clatter the second his bare skin came into contact with the cold air and he quickly dived under the covers, curling up in a foetus position. His body was rocked by violent shivers as it tried to bring itself back to the normal temperature. He felt more than saw or heard James start up the fire and when he slipped in next to him, Q didn’t wait to be told to wrap himself around him.

James was as cold as ice and Q started to rub his arms and back, pressing his lips against his chest and blowing hot air. There was nothing sexual about to process despite their lack of clothes or how close they were, fear and everything they had gone through slowly creeping back in Q’s mind and causing him to shiver for a whole other reason.

“We’re safe on the ground, Q,” James whispered and hugged him tighter, lips brushing against his ear. “You survived the rough landing and the trek up here.”

“I’d hate t-to see what you c-call a crash,” Q tried to joke, frowning when James forced him to turn on his belly before slipping a sheet between them and climbing on his back.

“You never will,” James promised, rubbing his hands together. “A massage will help both of us. Don’t hold back from falling asleep if it creeps up on you; we’re completely out of danger and I’m on fire duty.”

Thirty minutes later, the cabin was nice and toasty and Q was fully relaxed, smiling softy and fast asleep. James was relieved that his massage worked that well since the only other move he had to get someone to forget a near-death experience – outside of giving them a muscle-relaxer or two – was sex. Not that he was against the idea of having sex with Q. He’d had two sex dreams involving him just this week but he was pretty sure Q would castrate him just for thinking about suggesting it.

Q definitely wasn’t the kind of man who did one-night stands. He had that ‘homey’ feel about him whenever he wasn’t dismantling an organization from behind a computer screen or building something that logically shouldn’t work and James thought too much of him to attempt anything that might end whatever their relationship was.

Rolling out of bed, James set about getting their clothes to dry and make some food. He was hoping to find some meat but thank to Q being right next to him in the field, he still had his gun and a lot of bullets so he could go out hunting later. He was going to have to go out for firewood so why shouldn’t he also procure something a little more consistent that he knew how to cook? Though Q might be a little bit squeamish so he definitely needed to find a place to skin the deer that wasn’t too far but also not too close to the cabin.

Was he thinking too far into the future by assuming that Mi6 was going to take its sweet time finding them? Not in the least. He was just being realistic. Without feeling offended, recovering the Quartermaster was a top priority for them so they were going to move a lot faster than when it came to an agent but they were still stuck on top of a snowy mountain in the middle of a snowstorm so he had enough time to cook a whole deer for them before MI6 got to them.

The rustling of sheets behind him tipped him that Q was awake before he heard him speak. “I hate to say it but you are wasted as an agent.”

Chuckling, James kept his eyes on the food, knowing that Q was still naked. “I gave you new ammo to use against me the next time I trash your equipment, didn’t I?”

Humming, Q got out of bed, wrapped one of the blankets around himself and quickly jumped on the fluffy carpet in front of the fireplace to check on the state of their clothes. “No worries, I’ll still stick with threatening to demote you to janitor for those. Hmm, I need to come up with some self-drying clothes for the field.”

“I will do my best not to forget them on the floor of a target,” James teased, knowing that Q wouldn’t retaliate because he was seeing him moving food to plates. “But until then, these sheets will have to do. Hungry?”

“Terribly so,” Q breathed out accepting the offered plate and waiting for James to sit down in front of the fire next to him before digging in. “Though I actually have a change of clothes for the both of us in the equipment bag after what happened in the Bahamas.”

James almost choked on his food trying to hold back a laugh. By some cruel twist of fate, he and Q had been in a similar situation not five months ago. His mission at that time got escalated to the point that the Quartermaster’s personal intervention was needed – much like right now – so a meeting between them was set up on a dingy boat. Some bad guys managed to trail James which forced him to untie the boat that Q was on so they wouldn’t die and the whole chase ended with them safe and sound and smelling like fish guts so of course they had to steal some clothes.

“A Quartermaster is ready for everything,” James said and put more food on Q’s plate. “A good thing, considering that it doesn’t look like the storm will stop any time soon.”

A glance at the window got Q to frown deeply. “We definitely would have been frozen by now in that aeroplane. Good thing you spotted this cabin.”

Q focused on fixing the transmitter as soon as they were done eating and they were both clothed once again, his frustrated sighs and various curses keeping James company as he washed the dishes and properly poked his nose in every nook and corner of the cabin. He found a few magazines that indicated that the owners of the cabin visited it during the spring and late winter, the latter of which was in one month. He also found that the cabin had a sort of a second floor where books from various genres – romance, spy thrillers, classic whodunits – where tucked in. He put those aside and continued his inspection, a bit jealous at the normalcy of finding Christmas ornaments instead of guns, a few board games that had obviously been used instead of explosive, and a full deck of cards among many others that had cards missing instead of throwing knives.

The movie and game DVDs he found tucked in the armrest of the sofa he had pushed up against the door after he had been done with cleaning the horn indicated that a TV and a gaming console were hidden somewhere in the cabin and while he didn’t plan on unnecessarily consuming whatever electricity had been stored in the cabin before the sun showed its face again, he felt like he wasn’t a proper spy if he didn’t find where they were.

A nifty little button made to look like it was part of the floor near the fireplace revealed brought James’ mission to an end and he slumped on the sofa, ready to amuse himself with the spy thriller. He got halfway through the book when he felt a gentle tug on his bland grey shirt and he looked up.

“Finally got it to work,” Q said proudly, unaware that he was beaming and James realized that this was the first time he saw him completing something – and it was marvellous and it made him feel a bit more ashamed of how he treated Q’s inventions. “Is that any good?”

“No boffin to chew his ear off for all the shit he’s pulling, so very unrealistic,” James said after a moment’s thought, abandoning the book and scooting closer to Q. “There are only a few things that we can do here while waiting to be rescued and it just so happens that I found a few bottles of alcohol tucked in the back of the pseudo-attic and despite your accusations, my memory is good enough to remember the teambuilding for a few months ago. Would you be interested in a repeat of that night?”

Barely holding back a grin, Q ran his finger down the bottle that James had put between them. “What about the consequences?”

“The bathroom is better stocked than I thought,” James purred, bring over two glasses. “So, how about it?”

A sober Q somehow had no trouble beating him at poker. A properly drunk Q couldn’t even remember how to buy a property in Monopoly. He was still a barrel of fun and James himself had problems remembering the rules to whatever game they were playing. At some point, they thought it would be a good idea to go outside and build a snowman and decorate one of the nearby trees. Thankfully, even drunk off their asses, they still had a strong sense of self-preservation and the second they felt the cold wind against their skins, they ran back inside and pushed the sofa back in front of the door.

Two bottles of malt whiskey later, Q was passed out on all the blankets they moved from the bed in front of the fireplace, looking very much a cat in James’ eyes. He thought about picking Q up and taking him to the bed as the floor couldn’t be good for his back no matter how many covers and pillows they’d put there but decided that it would be for the better if he left him right where he was and just lie next to him.

Agents didn’t really drink. Just like your typical bartender – especially the hot ones – they only pretended to drink a lot or made sure that what they consumed wasn’t strong. The way James ordered his drink ensured that it was a weak one, as the ice wasn’t distributed throughout the drink so emptying two bottles of alcohol with his Quartermaster’s aid also knocked him out. It was a testament of how much he trusted Q, to allow himself to be this drunk, but also a way to let Q know that there was no reason for him to worry.

Morning came and with it, the headache. James was the first to wake up because he had instinctively moved in his sleep to guard Q against attackers busting in through the window and though the storm was still raging, the snow was blindingly pristine. He mentally cursed and got up to pull the drapes, taking note of how much snow had piled on the ground and that it ended just below the window.

Going out to get more wood or hunt was definitely going to be an issue but that was something to worry about at a later time. Right now he set about getting the headache pills from the bathroom and a glass of water which he placed near Q and started reheating the previous night’s food. Despite their predicament, he quite enjoyed the calmness of everything and though he was now sober, he still wanted to decorate a blasted tree.

“I think we slept on the floor during the teambuilding as well,” Q grumbled, downing the entire glass of water with the pills and dragging himself over to the transmitter before joining James at the table.

He looked softer than usual with his hair was sticking out in every direction and with his shirt slightly revealing his shoulder, James tempted to reach across to see if he could get him to purr if he scratched him behind the ears. But he didn’t get this far in life by being stupid so he kept his hands to himself. “No Eve this time so you don’t need to worry about having to erase any pictures.”

Q hummed, looking around the table for his usual mug of tea before remembering where they were. “Thank God for small miracles. I’m not sober enough to deal with her teasing and again, you are wasted as an agent,” Q said, happily cleaning the plate before him before James was done with his glass of water.

Though they had known each other a little over two years now, they never spent this much time together alone. During the Skyfall incident, he’d maybe spent thirty minutes with just Q, sitting on the doorstep of his destroyed house with a blanket around his shoulders. They didn’t say anything but it felt good knowing that someone that did their best to help him continued to be there.

Q had wanted to pull him in a tight hug since he knew that James saw M as his adoptive mother but didn’t. There was a dangerous aura around James at that time despite his apparent calmness and Q knew enough that James needed to initiate contact.

On the teambuilding that followed the ‘changing of the guard’, they were also with at least three other people around them. James was amused that Q seemed to be unaware of the large number of people that he had wrapped around his middle finger, rushing to bring him his mug of tea and going out of their way to laugh at his jokes – they were funny but not side-splitting level. This actually applied to all the teambuilding exercises that followed, even the ones where Q came up with a plan to ditch them and included James just because he was – not so secretly – his favourite agent.

In Rome, Zagreb, Budapest, Berlin, Bucharest, Munich, and Athens they maybe spent just 20 minutes alone and they only talked about either were James planned on disappearing or what Q was going to do on either on the vacation he was going to go on the second the mission was over or in general after James was done ‘blowing up history’.

Austria wasn't talked about, nor the extended vacation James went on after that.

In hindsight, they actually knew a lot about each other and they were friends. They just… never really acknowledged that – James for fear of something bad happening the second he openly admitted that and Q because he was still respecting the whole ‘Bond makes the first step’ rule. Or that there might be something a bit deeper there, despite the multitude of rumours that circulated around MI6.

So what if James sometimes sent someone with lunch or breakfast – and freshly bought cat food every two weeks – to Q after testing some weapons for him? A barely functioning Quartermaster wasn’t a good idea. And _just_ because Q gave James all his best equipment despite knowing the outcome didn’t mean that he wasn’t thinking of the world’s future – James was the best agent that existed. James knowing how Q liked his tea was only a result of being around him and his boffins so many times during crisis and Q knowing that James started his day with a hardboiled egg was just common sense. The man could be such a child if his morning didn’t start right…

“I’m technically a Lord; you can’t afford me as a massager _or_ a cook,” James said, nevertheless moving to sit behind Q to massage his temples. “Still, I’m technically at fault for you being stuck here so I won’t charge you this time.”

“Damn right you won’t,” Q murmured, leaning back into James’ touch. “A little bit more to the left, Your Lordship.”

They found their way back to bed and Q went back to sleep after that, James only then noticing the deep bag under his eyes. Maybe this whole getting shot down from the sky by a possible enemy or a complete idiot was a God sent, though he wished Q was allowed to get his much needed rest through another method. As for himself…

James was getting restless. He started to reconsider the security of the cabin, despite knowing that the weather would make it impossible for anyone to come for them without making sufficient noise to give them enough to prepare a counterattack. And reading that spy thriller wasn’t doing him any favours. The thing was stupid, the plot was predictable and ridiculous and even he thought that the main character was landing too many ladies and falling in love way to fast. But it did make him think of things and Q was a ‘cuddle-octopus’.

Around the fifth orgy in as many chapters, James threw the damned book _near_ the fire just because he knew Q wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. He’d be right in everything, of course, as James wouldn’t like whatever strangers that took refuge in his house during a time of crises and ate everything he had also burn or destroy his things.

“It can’t be that bad, could it?” Q murmured sleepily from his little nest right up against James’ side.

“Horrible,” James grumbled, thinking for a moment before bringing an arm around Q’s shoulder and sliding further down in the bed. Q was warm. Q was safe. Q was a constant that would always go out of his way to help him unlike the treacherous Quartermaster in the stupid novel. Q managed to melt his worries and remind him how tired he was after the long mission. “You’d seriously want to strangle this agent.”

Q snorted, opening one eye. “What makes you think I don’t seriously want to strangle you? I might be trying to do it in my sleep.”

James wasn’t sure if it was his heart or Q’s heart that he could hear thumping through the mattress. “I’ll read some of his adventures when we wake up around noon and you tell me then,” he concluded, daring to brush his lips against the top of Q’s head before shutting his eyes tightly.

The first move – a conscious one, at least – had been made. The ball was now in Q’s court.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love


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